


Should and Shouldn't

by Nevermore_red



Series: Shouldn't [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Pretty much smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 09:03:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4429439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevermore_red/pseuds/Nevermore_red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I had just planned this as a simple one shot, but then I wanted to see Sansa's side of it, so there's this. It doesn't share the same repetition of the 'should, shouldn't' as the title and Sandor's POV did, but oh well. Here it is!</p></blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She shouldn't be here. He knew that. She should have called her sister, or one of her brothers, or her bloody annoying friend Margaery.

But she hadn't. She'd called him.

He shouldn't have answered the call, should have told her he couldn't come. But he hadn't. Instead, he'd gotten on his bike and drove across town to pick her up. Found her standing in front of a corner store, holding herself around the middle tightly. He didn't say anything to her, just pulled up in front of her and handed her the helmet he'd been wearing. She'd taken it with the same amount of talk. Only when they were at a red light did she speak, telling him she didn't want to go to her place. When he asked her where she did want to go, he'd nearly tipped the bike over when she said his place. He should have told her no, should have taken her to her place regardless.

But, again, he hadn't.

Now he stood leaning against the wall in his studio, watching her as she stood in front of the bay windows that overlooked the dark city. She had taken her coat off, but still held herself tightly as if she were cold. He wondered if she was shivering, but it was too dark in the place and he didn't turn on more then a single lamp to help hide his disfigured face from her. He should ask her if something was wrong, ask her what had happened tonight, try and comfort her. But if she wanted sweet words and a kind voice, she'd called the wrong man. So instead he held his place on the wall, watching her. Waiting to see what she would do or say.

"You have a great view." she said after a long stretch of quiet. He shoved off the wall at her words, dropping his bike helmet into the armchair before going to stand on the opposite side of the bay windows as her. The studio was shit, in a shit neighborhood, but he had to agree with her. He did have a great view.

"That why you wanted to come here tonight?" he leaned a shoulder against the window pane, watching her. "To see if I had a good view?" Her tense posture eased slightly and she cast him a long look before laughing lightly. The sound sent warmth throughout his stomach.

"No." she released her grip on herself and put her elegant fingers to the dirty glass. "I wanted to come here because I didn't want to be alone." she said the words softly, her breath fogging the glass before her mouth.

"You have a family, little bird." he reminded her with a sneer. "Friends. Would none of them come to you, or did they ignore all your chirping?"

She laughed softly again, leaning her forehead against the glass before turning her face to look at him. In the dim light of the lamp and city glow, he realized she didn't flinch at his face. That shouldn't have made him that happy. Shouldn't have made him hard. But it did.

"I didn't call any of them because they ask too many questions." she took a deep breath and pushed off the window, turning to face him, mimicking his pose. "I didn't think you would."

"Just trying to figure out your meaning here." he said honestly. He was always honest, especially with her.

"My meaning is I don't want to answer a bunch of questions. I don't want to talk about or think about Joffrey and all the bad decisions I've made. I don't want to _think_ at all."

He tensed inwardly at Joffrey's name. He was, at one time, Sansa's dream boy as well as the son of his former employer. It didn't take long of her dating him to realize how wrong she'd been. And she was still trying to untangle herself from the mess he and his family had tied her in.

Sandor hated the little cunt. A pretty fucking craven with a mouth bigger then his bitch mothers bank account.

"Alright, girl." he stood up and took a step closer to her, surprised when she didn't flinch. He shouldn't try so hard to scare her. Maybe that was self preservation. "No questions. No thinking." When her breath hitched and her eyes went wide, he turned around and skulked into the kitchen, throwing the refrigerator door open. Questionable cheese, an empty pizza box, and beer. Grabbing two bottles, he turned and sat one on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living and bedroom before opening his. He held her gaze as he tipped the bottle up and took a long drawl. She hesitated only a second before coming and grabbing her bottle.

"I don't like beer." she said, situating herself on the barstool and twisting the cap off.

"You'll have to pardon me, princess, I don't keep champagne in the house."

She rolled her eyes with a grin and took a drink of the beer. "I don't like champagne, either." she sat the bottle down on the cracked tile, picking at the label absently.

"No?" he downed some more of his before leaning forward to brace his forearms on the counter.

"No." she eyed him for a long beat. "You really don't know me as well as you think you do." another drink of her beer, this time while holding his gaze. He felt his cock stir at the sight of her lush lips wrapped around the bottle. He should look away, should put more distance between them. He didn't say anything to her statement, just gave a grunt.

"And, please, don't call me princess." her eyes went misty, her lip quivering before she regained herself. "Joffrey used to call me that."

Before he could think about what he was doing, he reached across the counter and gripped her small chin between his thumb and forefinger, making her look at him.

"I'm not the boy cunt." he lifted his thumb to drag across her bottom lip gently.

"No." her voice came about as nothing more then a breathy whisper. Her breath brushing across his thumb shouldn't have felt like a direct caress to his ever growing hard on.

It did.

"You're nothing like Joff."

He hadn't seen her hand move, but then she was gripping his wrist, holding his hand to her mouth as her small pink tongue darted out to slide hotly against the pad of his thumb. His blood went hot and thick in his veins even as he jerked his hand away like she'd burnt him. He stumbled back against the counter behind him, glaring at her, her face a mixture of shock and disappointment.

"What are you playing at, girl?" he demanded, suddenly angry that she would tease him like that.

"I'm not playing anything." she stood up from the barstool and moved around the counter to stand in front of him. The kitchen was tiny, which meant she stood just an arms length away. He could feel the heat coming off her, smell her lemony perfume.

He shouldn't want her. She was younger then him, in a different class then him, her father was his new boss. He should have just made sure she was safe, then taken her home.

"Then be straight." he growled. "Tell me what you're doing here."

"You said yourself you weren't like Joffrey." she paused, chewing her bottom lip for a moment, seeming nervous all the sudden. "You're so different from anyone I know."

Yeah, he knew that. She was used to rich and pretty people. Sandor was neither. He was the man rich and pretty people hired to protect them. And it had never bothered him before. Still didn't, not really. He should be used to it, shouldn't want to be better because of a damned girl. He didn't say anything, though, just kept his ground and glared at her. She took a hesitant step forward, her small pale hand coming up to rest on his chest, her big blue eyes looking up at him.

"I want something different, Sandor."

His name coming from her felt like a physical blow. She'd never said his name before. He looked down at her hand on him, then narrowed his eyes at her.

"Careful, little bird." his voice was deeper then normal, his throat and tongue felt thick. "I'm not the gentlemen you're used to."

"Good." her other hand joined the first on his chest. "I didn't come here for a gentlemen." 

He should have pushed her away then, but instead he grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and hauled her little body against his, dropping his mouth to hers. His kiss wasn't tentative or gentle, but he'd never been a tentative or gentle man. He would show her exactly what she was asking for. It should scare her straight. And that shouldn't make his gut twist painfully.

Wrapping her hair around one hand, he thrust his tongue into her mouth, licked her, ate her, devoured her, letting the burned side of his mouth scrap her delicate lips. She didn't back down or falter like he'd expected. She rose on her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and met his tongue with hers stroke for stroke and he forgot what he should and shouldn't do. His mind shut off and he just felt her,  _her_ , Sansa fucking Stark.

His hands roved over her body roughly, squeezing her curves, his callouses scraping her exposed skin. Letting one hand glide down her arse, he followed the length of her thigh to the bottom hem of her skirt, jerking it up so he could touch bare skin. The leggings she wore got in his way. With a frustrated growl, he spun her around, her hands flying out to grasp the corner of the counter with a startled gasp. Pushing her upper body down, he reached under the skirt and tore the leggings down her long legs, revealing soft pale skin. He wanted to turn it red with his beard scruff.

Flipping the skirt up, he roughly squeezed her arse cheeks, then jerked her panties down to join her leggings before pressing his lower body against hers. She struggled between him and the counter, sputtering refutes.

He should stop. He needed to stop.

His hand left her hip and he tore open his jeans, one hand dipping in to pull himself out. He took a small step back to allow himself room and she took advantage. Spinning in the small space he left, he never had time to stop the stinging slap she delivered to the good side of his face. He let his face turn to the side with the force of it, a little surprised by her strength, and froze for a moment before bringing his gaze down to hers. She was leaning back against the counter, her cheeks flushed and her breathing ragged, outrage shinning in her blue eyes.

"I'm not a whore, Sandor." her normally soft and sweet voice was hard.

Yeah, he should have stopped.

"I've never once treated you like the dog you say you are so don't treat me like a bitch in heat."

Her words stunned him, and not only because he'd never heard her curse before. She was right. Of all the people he'd come in contact with since working for Ned, she never once treated him like a dog. He felt an unfamiliar sting of regret and guilt as he pulled his hand free of his cock, leaving it in his pants.

"You're right." admitting it shouldn't have been as hard as it was. "Maybe now you'll see me as that dog, eh, little bird?"

That thought shouldn't upset him as much as it did.

"No." she said sharply. "I want this, Sandor. I want you, but I don't want to be taken while bent over a kitchen counter in the dark."

"I told you, girl, I'm no gentlemen."

"I don't want gentle." she said firmly. "I want your hands and your mouth. I want you to feel me before I take you inside me." her cheeks blushed furiously at her words. "And I'd like to see you and touch you as well."

Simple words shouldn't make his knees weak, but then again, everything about Sansa Stark had always made him weak in one way or another.

"Take your clothes off." he instructed after a moment of debate, pulling his own shirt off before tossing it onto the floor. He watched her kneel to undo the laces of her boots as he toed his own off, enjoying the spill of red hair over her shoulder. When she stood straight again, she stepped free of the pile of her leggings and panties, her blue eyes flicking up to meet his, before sliding slowly down to take in his bare chest and open jeans. He was painfully aware that the head of his cock breeched the elastic band of his boxer briefs, but he did enjoy the way her eyes widened slightly when she noticed it.

"The rest of it." he reminded her. She didn't look away from his body as she shrugged out of her purple cardigan, then slid the skirt off, leaving her bare from the hips down. It was dimly lit in the kitchen, but he could still see the small thatch of dark auburn hair at the apex of her thighs and was suddenly very, very glad she'd stopped him earlier.

Her fingers trembled as they grabbed the hem of her silky looking camisole and slowly pulled it off. He was aware she didn't do it slowly for show or to tease, but out of nerves. He should speak to her, reassure her, help calm her but he couldn't find his voice at the moment. Each inch of creamy skin revealed was another surge of blood to his already full cock, making it almost painful, but he didn't dare take his pants off just yet.

When the top was off her arms went to wrap around herself, but she stopped them, lifting her chin and forcing her arms to remain at her sides. Her bra was a simple white cotton, meant for function and comfort not to seduce and tease. It still did, though. When she didn't make a move to take the last garment off, he raised his eyes to hers.

"You're still half dressed." she pointed out.

He didn't go slow or tease either, just removed the rest of his clothes with the same matter of fact efficiency as he did everything else in life. He held still, letting her look at him, get used to the sight of his naked body. He knew he was intimidating. His body wasn't elegant or soft. He'd always seen his body and his size as another form of weapon, something like his Ruger 9mm or his SIG Sauer automatic rifle, so he cared for it like one, kept it well honed and deadly. A far cry from the blonde boys she was used to.

Other then an increase in her breathing, and the blush extending to her chest, she didn't move.

"You aren't leaving the bra on." he told her, her eyes darting back up to his, a look of unease mixing with the heat in her gaze.

"I...they aren't very..." her voice trembled as she spoke and she swallowed hard before going on. "Joffrey teased me for how small they were. He preferred I left my bra on."

A surge of anger dulled the arousal coursing through him.

"Joffrey is a cunt." he growled. "And I don't give a shit what he preferred. You're taking the bra off."

Instead of waiting for her to do it herself, he took a step to her, taking her by the shoulders, and turned her around.

"Wait."

"Hush, little bird." he whispered in her ear, his hands smoothing up the length of her back. "I'm not going to take you like this."

His fingers found the clasp of her bra and he flicked it open. Taking the straps on her shoulders, he eased them off, following the path with his mouth, nipping the edge of her shoulder as the fabric fell from her, then he retraced his path back to the side of her throat, letting his hands slide down to the flare of her hips.

"Joffrey was an idiot that didn't deserve what he had." He bit the side of her throat, soothed the sting with his tongue as his hands slid up her belly to cup her breasts. They were small, his big hands swallowing them, but they were soft and high and his eyes rolled shut when he felt the hardness of her nipples against his palms. Squeezing not so gently, he grasped each nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching lightly at first until they grew firmer, then he did it harder. She gasped, then moaned, arching her back to force the small mounds more firmly into his hands. He sucked the lobe of her ear into his mouth, letting his teeth drag over it as he released it, then let his chin rest on her shoulder, watching what his hands were doing.

Her breasts were the same pale color as the rest of her skin, tipped with small rose colored nipples. By contrast, his dark, rough hands seemed even darker and rougher then normal. Letting one hand drop between her legs, he forced her thighs open and dipped a finger into her curls, finding her swollen and damp.

But not enough.

Grasping her hips roughly, he spun her around and lifted her to the edge of the counter. Her hands flew out to grab his shoulders, a surprised squeal escaping her.

Maybe he should have warned her, should have gone slower, but he didn't. And he wasn't going to slow down.

Grabbing her thighs, he pulled her legs open, then leaned forward to bury his face between them before she had time to protest. Her surprised gasp quickly turned into a low moan. He ate at her roughly, sucking her folds into his mouth and dragging his teeth over them, then finding her clit to rub his tongue hard against. Her hands were in his hair, gripping the strands almost painfully as she thrust her hips against him. He laid a forearm over her hips, holding her still so he could do what he wanted. She grew more swollen, more wet and ready against his mouth as he devoured her. When her body grew tense, her moans becoming more loose and higher pitched, he eased off of her slightly, then thrust two fingers inside of her.

"Gods, Sandor," she panted his name. "I, I cant..."

He stood up straight, keeping his fingers buried in her, thrusting in and out gently. Eyes glazed with arousal and need, she stared at him, looking at his mouth, which he knew was covered in her juices. He probably should have wiped it off, and he damn sure shouldn't have kissed her with it still all over him, but he did anyway. She didn't pull away in disgust like he'd thought she would. She weaved the fingers of one hand into his hair while the other drifted next to his still thrusting inside her and softly curved around his cock, barely pulling it away from his abdomen.

The noise that came from him should have embarrassed him but he was too turned on to care. A groan spilled from his mouth into hers she gently stroked up his length. Freeing his hand from her hair, he wrapped it around hers, forcing her to hold him tighter.

"Harder." he grunted against her mouth. When he was sure she wouldn't let her grip ease, he let her hand go so he could clutch and pinch her breasts. Small they may be, but they were damn sure sensitive. He felt his balls draw up, his stomach clench, his body tremble on the edge of release.

He should stop, should pull her hand away from him. He shouldn't thrust into her fist, shouldn't finger her harder, but there was a part of him that figured she'd bolt long before he got inside of her. And he wanted to come, wanted her to be the one make him come so he didn't stop.

His release washed through him, pulling a strangled growl from him just as her body clenched around his fingers, the sweet sound of her getting off filling his head as his seed shot onto her hip and thigh, spilling onto her fingers.

Releasing her breast, he braced his weight on the counter by her hip, letting his head fall on to her shoulder.

He should pull his fingers from her, should apologize for spending all over her and help her clean off. Her hands leaving his cock and smoothing up his back were a comfort he shouldn't want or need.

"That was good." her voice purred in his ear. "How long before we can do the real thing?"

The sudden chuckle that rumbled his chest surprised even him. A very feminine whimper came from her mouth when he pulled his fingers free. Wrapping both arms around her, he lifted her from the counter and held her tightly to him. Her wetness painted his abs, helping to stiffen his cock again.

"Give a man a moment." he licked the shell of her ear.

Locking her ankles at the small of his back, she started to drop small kisses to his face and neck, not shying away from his scars. He had little to no feeling on that side of his face. Her touch there shouldn't burn him, shouldn't drive him crazy. Getting to the foot of his unmade bed, he dropped her amongst the tangled sheets and comforter. Giggling, she scooted back so she rested on the pillows.

The sight of it, of her in his bed, naked and flushed, had him pausing.

"Something wrong?" she asked, her voice unsure.

"No." he assured her quickly. "Just wondering if I need to grab a rubber from the bathroom."

Despite having his semen on her skin, she still flushed at the mention of a condom.

"No, I, uh, I'm on birth control." He didn't need to ask if she was clean. A girl like Sansa would have made sure she was. And Joffrey had spouted off at the mouth more then once about being her first back when Sandor was still employed by the Lannisters.

"Good." he reached down and grasped his cock, firmly stroking himself into full hardness again, although knowing he was going to be inside her with nothing between them had damn near done the job for him. Her eyes followed his movements, a little pink tongue coming out to wet her lips.

"And, um, what about you?" Her stuttering made him grin. She was always well spoken, seeing her lose herself enough to stammer was a thrill of it's own.

"I don't take birth control, little bird." he teased and then frowned. He shouldn't be teasing her, he should just get on with fucking her. Her smile was wide and lit up her face. He scowled harder at her, trying to discourage her from smiling again. Her smile did things to his self preservation.

"I meant are you...clean?" she asked, completely ignoring his glare. Clenching his jaw, he nodded. He had regular blood work done as part of his job as the Starks body guard. And, again, he valued his bodies ability as a weapon too much to put it at risk.

"And I suppose I should just take your word for it?" she asked with a teasing tone, still not acknowledging his sour face.

"Or you can ask your daddy for the report on my last physical." he flinched. Maybe mentioning her dad, and the fact he worked for him, would bring her to her senses. Her light hearted giggle shouldn't have made his chest heave a sigh of relief that she wasn't going to leave.

"Are you planning on doing more than just staring and touching yourself?"

Sandor took a moment, running his tongue over his teeth, trying to calm the raging beast inside.

"Lay flat and spread your legs." he crawled up between her legs, forcing them wider to accommodate his body. Her teasing look was gone now, replaced by a look of hunger mixed with fear. Bracing his weight on his forearm next to her head, he grabbed one of her knees and forced her leg up around his hip.

"Hang on to me." he growled, then took hold of himself and lined up with her entrance. Without warning, he thrust fully into her. Her cry was one of startled surprise, nearly drowned out by his groan of pleasure.

Gods, she was tight and hot. He gave her only a second to get catch her breath before he started thrusting, driving into her with a need that shocked him. He'd never been a gentle lover. He tended to approach sex like he did fighting. With single minded intensity and calculated force. Maybe he should slow down, take it easy for her first time with him, but that wasn't the man he was and she had said she wanted him. If she didn't want that, she shouldn't have called him.

Surprising him a little, she met each and every one of his heavy thrusts with one of her own. Lifting up on his knees, he dug a hand under her hips to raise her to his movements, fucking up into her now instead of just fucking her into the mattress. Her long legs wrapped around his hips, one of her hands leaving his forearms to slap against the wall behind her head. Looking down at her was almost too much. Seeing her lithe body moving with him, watching her face flush and soften with her pleasure, pleasure _he_ was giving her, those blue eyes locked on his the entire time shattering any thoughts of her thinking of someone else, and he felt his control slipping again.

Gods she felt good, better then anyone in recent memory. Tight. Hot and wet, and getting more so by the second. The little noises she made changing into longer and louder moans until, finally, her eyes went wide, her back arched off the bed and she came with a gush of fluid and his name gasping from her mouth.

Seeing her come, feeling it and hearing it, snapped every ounce of restraint he may of had before. Grabbing her hips hard enough to bruise, he fucked her as hard as he wanted until he lost himself inside her, uncaring if he scared her or bruised her, coming so hard he thought he may have blacked out for a moment, his much larger body hunched over hers as he shivered through the aftershocks of pleasure.  

Pulling out, he rolled off of her and onto his back, throwing an arm over his eyes as he tried to regulate his breathing, maybe get his world to realign. He felt the mattress move as she left the bed, heard the bathroom door open and close. He stayed on the bed, eyes covered.

He should be happy, satiated. He'd just had damn good sex with a woman he'd wanted for the better part of two years. He'd come two fucking times. He shouldn't feel anxious and rejected like a fucking green boy that she was leaving.

The toilet flushed, water ran, and then the door opened again. He kept his eyes covered with his arm, not wanting to watch her go. He might do something really fucking stupid like try and stop her.

It was better this way and that shouldn't hurt him.

When the bed dipped again he figured that she was sitting down to pull on her clothes. Then he felt her tugging on the sheets that were bunched up around him. Opening his eyes, he looked over as she cuddled under the blankets and then up against his side, her hand coming up to rest on his bare chest. He held completely still, arm raised over his head. Her blue eyes looked up at him, filled with uncertainty.

"Is this okay?"

When he didn't answer for a long stretch, her eyes went wide and a little panicked, her cheeks flushing hotly.

"I'll call a cab." her voice was little more then a whisper as she started to roll away from him.

He should let her go.

Reaching out, he snagged her wrist and pulled her back to him.

"Don't fly away now, little bird." he tucked her in next to him, pulling one of her legs over his waist. "I've not finished with you yet." 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had just planned this as a simple one shot, but then I wanted to see Sansa's side of it, so there's this. It doesn't share the same repetition of the 'should, shouldn't' as the title and Sandor's POV did, but oh well. Here it is!

Sansa woke before him. She held still, not wanting to wake him before she gathered her thoughts. She closed her eyes, thinking back to last night. Predictably, her body heated up despite the cold studio.

She could vividly remember the first time she met Sandor Clegane. She'd been with Joffrey, in the beginning of their relationship when everything was rainbows and flying hearts. As a bodyguard, he fit the bill well. He frightened her with his size and ravaged appearance, his brash nature and his often crude way of speaking. Over the year of her relationship with Joff, she started adopting a different opinion of the man everyone called the Hound. When Joffrey's true nature started to show, Sandor was always there, protecting her somehow, even if it didn't seem like it at the time, and in the end he'd saved her, even leaving the Lannister's employment. She'd felt bad for him, responsible somehow, so she recommended him to her father. Ned had been well informed of Sandor's efforts to keep her safe, so he willingly hired him.

That was a year ago. And every day she seen him since her intrigue and attraction grew. There was something more to the scarred man then his harsh tone and crude language. Something kinder, something...more.

Opening her eyes, Sansa took in his small studio in the grey morning light. The bed she lay on was surprisingly comfortable, well used and soft sheets surrounded her, along with a thick, warm arm wrapped around her waist, his big body curving around her much smaller one, eveloping her in his heat. The studio itself was pretty crappy. Worn wood floors that were dull and scuffed, white walls with chips in the paint. Other then the bed, the only other furnishing was a beat up armchair with an end table next to it, a floor lamp behind it near the door and a beat up old dresser next to the bed. But despite it's rugged facade, the place was warm and...almost homey with it's well loved furnishings and battered rugs. The bay windows lined the wall at the foot of the bed, it's windows smudged and dirty, but it opened to a breath taking view of the big city. His walls were bare of any decor or pictures, the only personal touch seemed to be the large gun safe in the corner near the bathroom door. The place suited him.

Behind her she felt Sandor's breathing change slightly, his body shifting against hers, the arm around her tightening slightly. She smiled to herself, completely in awe that he'd not only allowed her to stay the night with him, but had basically spooned her for the entire night, after another round of sex of course, just as rough and intense as the first time. Her hips were sore from being spread so wide for him, and she ached other places as well.

That ache slowly changed from uncomfortable and annoying to needy and pleasent as Sandor came more awake, his big, rough hand smoothing up and down her still naked torso, purposfuly bypassing her breasts. Breasts that had once embarrassed her in their lack of...enticement. Now, after one night with Sandor, she decided they had no faults at all. Sighing she wiggled back into his embrace, feeling his hardness press against her bottom. His head lifted a little, warm breath raising gooseflesh along the nape of her neck before she felt teeth bite down on her flesh, the pain startling arousing.

"Is the little bird awake?" his always deep voice was even more so early in the morning. The sound was enough to make her want to whimper.

"I am." her voice came out as nothing more then a breath that trembled a little. Her breath caught in her throat when Sandor pushed the sheet down to her hips before coming back to cover one of her breasts. He ran the palm of his hand back and forth until the nipple beaded painfully against him, making Sansa shiver.

"Come to your senses yet, girl?" he kissed the crook of her neck, then sucked the flesh into his mouth. "Regret rutting with the hound?"

"Please dont call yourself that." her voice was firmer then her insides felt, but she hated when he put himself down. She shivered harder when he licked the shell of her ear. She wiggled away from him enough that she could turn over and face him. The side he laid on put his burn scars on full display, his hair too tusled to cover any of them like usual. He flinched when she looked at him, but held her gaze resolutely, refusing to back down or shy away. His eyes held their usual hardness, and within them, a challenge. She wanted to see them soft or hot, like she'd seen them last night. Raising her hand, she placed it on his burnt cheek.

"But, no Sandor." she whispered. "No regrets." The hardness slowly leaked out of his eyes, but it wasn't replaced by the heat she figured she'd see. Instead, there was a flash of vulnerability and something else, something...more, then just aching tenderness that went straight to her soul. His arm snaked around her waist, but he didn't yank her against him like he'd done before. Instead, he slowly pulled her to him, his mouth meeting hers softly, almost hesitantly. Fingers of one hand threaded into her hair, fingertips from the other gluided up and down her spine. Last night had been hot and intense, almost frantic.

And it was good. Very good.

But now he was switching it up, heating her up slowly but no less intense. Tongue slipping into her mouth, it felt as if he were trying to inhale her into himself. Somewhere she would have gladly gone at that point. Fingers trailing down her spine, her bottom, her thigh, he hooked her knee, kneading the underside before pulling her leg up over his hip. The act put his hardness flush against her aching center. Holding her hip, not hard like last night, he began thrusting against her, his thumb smoothing circles on her skin. It felt good, better then good, but the emotion in it felt different then last night. It felt like this was the first and last time they'd ever be able to touch each other. It threw her off, made her feel like she was swimming and drowning at the same time.

Made her feel things she had no buisness feeling for a man like him.

Needing to breath, she pulled back from his mouth so she could pant. Her eyes found his, the emotion in them twisting her heart so she closed her eyes. His mouth kissed down her cheek, tongue swirling against the sensitive spot beneath her ear. Tipping his hips back, he maneuvered the head of his cock to her entrence, then...nothing. Trembling with want and need, she opened her eyes, found his waiting, and then he entered her with such excruciating slowness she thought she'd emplode before he got all the way in. Arm coming up to brace her spine, his hand massaged her neck as he set a slow, steady pace, each thrust forward touching all the right places.

Last night had been about pleasure, about getting off, but this was different. So much different. Slow, tender, and just perfect. As her pleasure mounted, as the tension began building in her belly, she felt her eyes start to sting, tears welling up as the emotions inside her got too much. Hanging onto his shoulders tightly, she arched into him, squeezed her eyes shut and came with a force that left her shaking and nearly sobbing. Sandor clutched her tightly to his chest, his face burried in her throat and he shoved as deeply inside of her as he could go and came with a rough, desperate sound.

They held onto each other like that for an immeasurable amount of time, trying to regain themselves. His hold eased up and she leaned back so she could see his face. Guarded, shuttered. She couldn't gage anything he was thinking, or feeling. Other then lifting a hand to wipe away a few stray tears and smooth her hair back, he didn't say anything. Feeling all too vulnerable, she gave him a shaky smile and pulled away.

"Is it okay if I use your shower?" she needed a moment away from him, to get her emotions under check.

"Towels are under the sink."

"Thank you." she said quickly before getting out of bed, suddenly feeling far too naked, and rushed to the bathroom. It was the size of a closet, really, with black and white tile covering the floor and walls. A toilet, a small sink, and a shower stall. Turning the water on, which spit and sputtered a moment, she let it warm up before stepping in. Leaning her head back into the spray she almost laughed trying to picture Sandor fitting in the stall. The shower head was just a few inches above her own head and the stall was just big enough for her to move around. Taking her time, she used his shampoo and soap, loving the smell of him surrounding her. When the water started to turn cold she got out and wrapped a towel around herself. Using his brush, she undid the tangles in her hair, then brushed her teeth with her finger. Feeling a little better, more put together at least, she braved leaving the bathroom.

Sandor was standing at the bar drinking a cup of coffee, wearing the jeans he had on yesterday and nothing else. Not for the first time, she thought he looked lethal. Instead of putting fear in her like it used to, it filled her with an odd thrill. The fact that her clothes were folded and sitting on the bed made her eyes water again. Having seen her come out of the bathroom, he turned his body towards her, hip leaned onto the edge of the counter, muscled arms crossed over his broad chest.

"Thank you for letting me use the shower." she said because she was nervous and wanted something to say.

"Little bird," he chuckled. "always using your fucking courtesies." Awkwardly trying to keep the towel on and put her clothes on at the same time, she ignored his teasing. Once she finally got her panties and skirt on, she turned her back on him and let the towel fall before putting her bra on.

"Little late for your modesty, girl." the closeness of his voice made her jump. "Easy, now." stopping her from turning to face him, he took over hooking her bra for her, letting his fingers linger on her spine before stepping back.

"Thank you." she turned to the bed, glancing over at him as she picked up her camisole. Still not smiling, he shook his head at her politeness. Dropping her gaze from his, she pulled the top on. While she put her cardigan back on, he dropped down on the bed heavily, leaning back to rest on his elbows, long legs stretched out in front of him.

Gods, he was sexy.

"There's coffee in the kitchen, if you want some." he told her, watching her fingers button the sweater. "Don't have no sugar or cream, though."

"I'm fine, thanks." His eyes came up to meet hers then.

"Stop thanking me, Sansa." her stomach tightened and her heart skipped a beat. He never called her by her name. With a grunt, he rose from the bed again and yanked a shirt out of the battered dresser next to the bed and pulled it on.

"I guess you'll be wanting to go back home now." he said without looking at her. "Let me use the bathroom first and then we'll go."

"No, I'll call a cab." he stopped in his stride to the bathroom, then turned slowly to face her, his face tight with anger, his eyes hard.

"Cant be caught with daddy's dog, now can you?"

"Well, I...there would be a lot of questions to answer if I showed up with you. Just in case Arya is home." She and Arya shared a condo near their parents house. It would be too much of a risk to have him take her home. With shaky legs, she took a few steps closer to him, then paused a foot away from him.

"But it's not because I'm ashamed, if that's what you're thinking." she had no idea what he was thinking, but she wanted him to know she didn't regret last night. And this morning when it felt like so much more. The tension eased from his shoulders slightly.

"I just wouldn't want you to get in trouble with my father. This is something I'd like to talk with him about instead of just...showing up on the back of your bike." His eyes narrowed in suspension.

"You're going to tell your father about last night?" his one brow raised.

"No!" she nearly shouted. "Not in...detail, no. He doesn't need to know all the details." When he didn't say anything for a long time, she grew uncomfortable and slightly embarrassed.

"But, of course, if you don't want...if this was just," she motioned to the bed, flushing deeply. "last night, then I wouldn't tell daddy. I wouldn't put your job at risk."

"You want more then just last night?" he asked slowly, as if considering each word carefully. "More then just fucking?"

"Well, that was nice." she smiled through her nerves. "And maybe I'm putting too much into what happened, but, yes. I'd like more. If you do, of course."

"How much more do you want?" Nervously chewing her lip, she dropped her gaze to his chest. Firming her nerves, she lifted her eyes back to his and lifted her chin.

"As much as you're willing to give me."

"A girl like you wants a knight in shinning armor followed by a white picket fence with two kids and a fucking dog." he scoffed. "I can't give you that, girl." Unable to stop herself, Sansa laughed. His look of confusion made her laugh even harder.

"I'm sorry." she said through her giggles, then finally pulled herself together. "But you're wrong. I told you last night. You don't know me as well as you think you do." Taking a deep breath, she continued.

"Maybe at one time I wanted those things, but I've outgrown fairytales. I just want you. The rest, the future, we can figure out as we go. If you're willing to give it a try, that is."

"And what about your father?" he still didn't move. "You think he'll accept us?" Hearing him say 'us' made her heart swell with hope.

"Daddy has always wanted me to be happy. And he knows you, trusts you more then most others. I don't think he'd ever dictate who I could or couldn't be with."

"You don't think I'd lose my job?"

"My father is a fair and just man. And you're his guard, not mine. I can't see how that would compromise your work. But if it's something you think could happen, then we don't have to tell him." she shrugged her shoulders, not knowing what else to say.

"You'd go behind your families back?"

"Honestly, I don't want to, but yes. I would." It occurred to her that he hadn't said anything about his wants or feelings and she suddenly felt very silly and uncomfortable.

"If you don't want..." her words were cut off when he was suddenly kissing her. It was hard and quick, and then he pulled back, hands holding her face up to his.

"Oh, I want, little bird." he nudged her nose with his. "But I wont have you going behind anyone's back. I wont have you be ashamed of anything."

"What about your job?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his waist, never wanting to let him go.

"If he fires me, I'll deal with it." he shrugged. "Always other rich people that need protection."

"But you want this?" she asked, needing to hear him say it. "Want us?"

"I want you, Sansa. Whatever you're willing to give." Feeling lighthearted and giddy, she laughed and nuzzled into his embrace.

"You can have it all, Sandor." she said into his shirt. She wasn't ignorant enough to think their relationship would be easy or simple, or come without it's share of problems, but she wanted it regardless. With someone as strong and caring as Sandor, she figured together they had every chance in the world at happiness.


End file.
